


Little Things

by lord_of_the_phantom



Category: Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: F/M, adorableness, family love, filial, fluffiness at its finest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 13:10:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10361217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lord_of_the_phantom/pseuds/lord_of_the_phantom
Summary: After a day at the park with their beloved daughter, Erik and Christine realize that it's the little things in life that truly matter.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Loki_Wholock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Wholock/gifts).



“But Erik!” Christine shouted. “You’re being unreasonable!”

          “Unreasonable! How am _I_ the one being unreasonable? _You’re_ the one trying to rope me into this!” Erik snapped.

          “All I asked was if we could go to the park! Your _daughter_ wants to go! Don’t deny her that!”

          A little girl with dark brown curls and green eyes walked into the room. “I don’t have to go to the park if it’ll make you fight,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t want you to fight, Maman. Please stop…” The girl’s head dropped.

          All the couple’s anger immediately melted away at the sight of their seven-year-old daughter. Erik walked over to her, feeling ashamed of himself. “Oh, Angele, darling, we can go to the park if you want,” he said, hugging her.

          Christine nodded. “And we’re sorry for fighting, sweetheart. It was just an argument. And a silly one at that.”

          Angele’s face lit up. “Thank you, Daddy! I’ll go put my shoes on.” Angele raced upstairs to her room to put on her tennis shoes.

          Christine laughed. “She’s the sweetest thing, isn’t she?” she said, walking over to Erik and hugging him. “She’s pretty similar to you, as well. Especially in her personality.”

          Erik looked down at her. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” he teased. “Is that such a bad thing that you have to point it out?” Erik wrapped his arms around Christine, grinning.

          Her face flushed a brilliant shade of pink. “Just that she’s very musically gifted and not afraid to be her own person. She has so much passion for everything that she does. And you can’t deny that you’re basically the same person.”

          Erik shrugged. “I could, but I’d be very wrong. Anyway, she looks identical to you in everything but her eyes. You can’t deny _that_ ,” he said, kissing her.

          “Ew, gross!” Angele cried, shielding her eyes from her parents. “Do you really have to do that while I’m around?”

          Christine giggled. “You see, darling, we didn’t know you were standing right there!” She walked over and hugged her daughter, who squirmed and tried to run away. “What? I can’t even hug my daughter anymore?”

          Angele rolled her eyes. “Maman, I’m seven years old now!” she scoffed. “I’m too old for hugs. Especially from my mom.”

          Erik shook his head. “Not the right thing to say, Angele. And besides, you’re never too old for hugs. Especially not hugs from your mom. Now, are you ready to go?” Angele nodded and ran toward the door.

          “Come on, Mommy! Come on, Daddy! We have to go!” she cried, grabbing Christine’s hand and pulling her out the door. Christine yelped and reached out for Erik, trying not to trip. Erik rolled his eyes and chased after his runaway daughter, trying to get her to stop. Angele giggled as she continued sprinting, her eyes glistening with delight.

          Soon, the little family arrived at the park, breathless from the run. Erik smiled as his little girl leaned on him. He wrapped his arms around her, then pulled Christine close. “Now you see why you don’t go running, Angele?” She nodded, panting. “Good. Now, what do you want to do?”

          Angele looked up at him, her tiredness quickly forgotten. She jumped up and down. “I want to go swing! Mommy, Daddy, come push me!” The seven-year-old rocketed off toward the swing set, leaving her parents to follow.

          “What are we going to do about her?” Erik laughed, smiling as his little angel bounded farther and farther away, her tennis-shoed feet pounding the asphalt sidewalk. Her dark curls were bouncing as she became a shape made of nothing but purple and blue, purple from her sweatshirt and blue from her jeans. “She’s a handful, no doubt about it.”

          Christine nodded. “Definitely. You can’t deny that she got some of these traits from you, Erik. She adores you, darling. Angele is most certainly a Papa’s Girl.”

          Erik shrugged. “I wish she was more like you. No child deserves to be cursed with my personality or any sort of affection for me. But besides, she loves us equally. Any time she needs comfort, she goes to you, not to me.” Christine rolled her eyes.

          “There were so many things wrong with that statement that I don’t know where to start. First of all, it’s adorable that she is so much like you. Second, she should show affection for you. She’s your daughter, Erik! You must realize that not everyone despises you, love. When you’re off composing, she’s always asking me if she can come help you or when you’ll be done. I know she doesn’t do that when I’m off practicing,” Christine said. “Accept the facts. Your daughter loves you. And for that matter, I do too.” She took his arm and rested her head on his shoulder.

          Erik sighed. There was no arguing with Christine. Especially not when she had her heart set on things like this. “I love you, Christine,” he said, wanting to fill the silence. She smiled and pressed closer to him. He put his arm around her.

          “I love you too, Erik.”

          They arrived at the swing set, where Angele was impatiently waiting. She was sitting on one of the swings and brushing her feet against the mulch. “What took so long?” she demanded, standing up and charging her parents down. “I’ve been here for like ten minutes already!” She flopped back down, sending the chains jingling. “Hurry up!”

          “Angele, don’t be rude,” Christine admonished. Angele scoffed. “Want to do that again?”

          “No, Mommy.” Angele looked down at her feet. “Sorry, Mommy.”

          “I forgive you, sweetheart. Now come here and give me a hug!” Christine said, a smile piercing her previously stern face.

          Erik grinned as his daughter embraced his beautiful wife. They looked so alike when they were standing next to each other that it wasn’t funny. And they were both so beautiful. Angele radiated playfulness and cheer, while Christine had a sort of grace to her that no one could emulate. It was amazing how two girls who were so alike could be so different. And both of them were so dear to him that he couldn’t put it into words.

          “Papa, Papa!” Angele cried, tugging on the hem of his shirt.

          He looked down into that pair of green eyes that were so similar to his own. “Yes, Angele?” he asked, though he already knew exactly what the girl was going to say.

          “Can you come push me?” she pleaded. Christine caught his eye and stifled a laugh. “Please?” She drew out the word, making it sound like it had a billion syllables.

          Erik sighed. “I suppose. But only because you’re so adorable, Angele.”

          “Yay!” She drew this word out too, continuing it as she ran in a victorious circle around her father. “You’re the best, Papa!” Christine stifled another laugh and mouthed “Told you” at him. Erik shrugged.

          Erik smiled at his daughter as she made a detour away from the swings and toward Christine. “Mommy, Mommy!”

          Christine sighed. “Yes, Angele?” she asked, although, just like Erik, she knew precisely what her daughter wanted.

          “Could you come swing with me?” Angele said. She stuck her lip out for dramatic effect, which made Christine laugh.

          “I guess,” Christine said. “What are we going to do with you? You’ve got us wrapped around your finger.”

          Angele shrugged. “Not really an issue. I get what I want!”

          Erik shook his head. “That’s not a good way of thinking, darling. You must be selfless and kind. Trust me. I was not when I was younger and it got me and many others into a world of hurt.”

          Christine sighed. “Erik, don’t push things like this on Angele right now. She’s only seven! But your father is right about some things. You do have to be selfless or no one will want to be your friend.”

          Angele shook her head, sending those beautiful dark curls flying. “If no one will want to hang out with me, then why do Rosemarie, Manon, and Chantelle love me so much? I’m popular at school just the way I am!”

          Erik looked at his daughter. “We’ll discuss this when you’re older, okay?” Angele nodded. “Now come on, you said you wanted to swing!” Angele smiled and dropped back down onto the swing, sending the chains jangling again. He began to push her as Christine started up her own swinging.

          “Maman!” Angele cried. “We have to be careful! These are our warhorses, and look in front of us! The monsters are going straight toward the orphanage! The children might get hurt! We have to stop them!”

          Christine feigned a gasp. “Oh no! Queen Angele, what should we do?” she pleaded. “You’re our only hope, Queen!”

          Angele smiled. “Do not fear, courageous knight. We shall not let the monster get to the orphanage! Now, we must run!” Angele leaped off the swing and ran behind it to Erik. “Papa, can you be the monster?” she asked, tugging on the hem of his shirt. He laughed and nodded. “Yay! That jungle gym is the orphanage. Go over there.” Erik did as he was told, catching Christine’s eye and noticing a glint of amusement in her bright brown eyes. Angele then ran back around to the swing and took her mother’s hand. “We have to go save the orphans, Madame Christine!”

          Christine dragged her feet across the mulch and slid off the swing. “Lead the way, milady!”

          “ROOOAAAR!” Erik cried, waving his hands in the air and lunging toward Angele. “What’s this? A queen and a knight, thinking they can stop me? No one could ever slay me, and I’d like to see them try!” He roared again, sending a few assorted children running. Christine stifled a laugh. It was funny to see Erik try to be frightening now that she knew his true personality.

          Angele picked up a branch and thrust it at her father. “Madame Christine and I shall succeed and your reign of terror will end! And the orphans will be safe!” Angele then scrambled up the jungle gym and stood on top of it, pointing the stick-sword at the sky. “Charge!”

          Christine laughed. “I can’t charge, milady. I have no weapon!”

          Erik shook his head. “Ah, but you do. You have a magic voice! It enchants anyone that you speak to and they fall under your spell! And, the moment you start singing, the spell cannot be broken!”

          Christine smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “That’s too sweet, Erik. Is that how you feel about me, love?”

          He rested his forehead against hers. “Of course it is. I feel like I’m under a spell any time I hear you speak, and when you sing, oh, when you sing, I have no words to describe it. It’s…,” he thought for a second, “enchanting.” Christine blushed as Erik kissed her. “I love you, Christine.”

          She smiled, hiding behind her dark hair a little bit. “I love you, too.” She pressed closer to him, kissing him again.  

          “Ugh, that’s gross,” Angele shuddered, wrinkling her nose. “Can we just get on with the game? Maman, go get a stick off that tree over there.” Christine nodded, but held on to Erik’s hand just a second longer than she had to. “Now, attack!” Angele cried, and they began to hit Erik playfully with sticks.

          “Noooooooo!” Erik cried, sinking to the ground and clutching his stomach. “How could this happen? I’ve run free forever and now…defeated so easily! Queen Angele, Madame Christine, you were worthy opponents. But there is one thing that can redeem me yet!”

          “And what is that?” Angele asked, holding her branch up to his neck. “I won’t hesitate to slay you again!”       

          Erik turned toward Christine. “True love’s kiss.”

          Christine shook her head. “So cliché. You had to go there, didn’t you?” He laughed and nodded. She sat down next to him and kissed him. “You happy now?” Erik nodded. “Good.”

          “Now what do you want to do, Angele?” Erik asked, picking his daughter up and holding her close. “Today’s your day, after all.”

          Angele shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m terrible at decisions!” she wailed, throwing her head back.

          “She gets that from you,” Erik said, laughing at his daughter’s melodrama. Christine stuck her tongue out at him. “That’s not very nice. You’re setting a bad example.”

          “Yes, I’m the bad example,” Christine said.

          “That was _one_ time!” Erik cried, knowing she was talking about Buquet.

          “Two.”

          “What?”

          “Piangi, remember?” Christine examined her nails, making sure the red paint wasn’t abhorrently chipped. Unfortunately, it was starting to chip away, revealing the pale pink fingernail beneath.

          “Oh yes, him. Sorry. I forgot about Piangi.” Erik absentmindedly fiddled with one of Angele’s dark curls.

          “A lot of people do. Carlotta wouldn’t though,” Christine decided.

          “Maman, who’s Carlotta? And who’s Piangi?” Angele asked, tilting her head. “Were they your friends? Can we visit them?”

          “Carlotta was a toad, darling. You don’t want to meet her. She hated-” Erik began, but was cut off by Angele wagging her finger in his face.

          “Hate is a bad word, Papa,” she scolded. “Don’t use that word.”

          “Oh, alright, she _despised_ your mother. Better?”

          “Much. Why did she deespice Maman?”

          “Who knows? I never did anything to her besides being a better singer than she was. It wasn’t my fault the people preferred me!” Christine said, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t like Carlotta, sweetheart. Your father loathed her and so did I. Most people did, for that matter. Now come, we need to find something else to do.”

          “I’m hungry! Can we get food?” Angele asked. Christine laughed.

          “I could eat. Erik?”

          “I’m ravenous.”

          “Papa, don’t use big words! I’m only seven,” Angele pouted, sticking her lower lip out. Erik chuckled.

          “Sorry, sweetie. I’m very hungry, how about that?”

          “Better, Papa.”

          Christine sighed. “Well, if you two are so hungry, then why are we just standing around? Let’s go get some food, love.” Angele nodded and Erik put her down. They then walked off toward the food court.

          Christine held one of Angele’s hands and Erik held the other, mostly to be certain she didn’t run away. The seven-year-old had a horrible habit of sprinting off in a random direction, much to her parents’ dismay. However, Angele found a way to make this fun. Every few steps, she would jump into the air, and her exasperated parents would be forced to swing her so she didn’t fall. This greatly amused her, and eventually her parents began to enjoy it as well, Erik especially. He catered to his family’s every whim, hoping that they wouldn’t dare leave him if he listened to everything they wanted. This seemed to work well, though little did he know that Christine would never leave him, even if her life depended on it.

          The little family soon arrived at the food court, and Angele promptly pleaded for La Petite Poulet, her favorite chicken restaurant. Of course, her parents agreed to this, for they also liked the little booth and loved seeing their daughter happy. “Mama, can you get me grilled nuggets?” Angele asked.

          Christine knelt down so she was on eye level with Angele. “Of course, sweetie. Do you want to go get a table with Papa?” she asked, holding her daughter’s shoulders. Angele nodded and Erik walked over to Christine.

          “Why must you send me over there?” Erik asked, acting like he didn’t want to go sit with his daughter. “She’s crazy!”

          Christine laughed. “Because I know you hate ordering at places like this. Now, tell me what you want and go sit with your daughter. She can’t be left unaccompanied for too long, you know. She starts to wander.”

          Erik sighed. “I know, I know. And I’ll have a chicken sandwich. No pickles or anything, just chicken and bread. With water to drink.”

          She smiled. “That’ll cost you, love.”

          He wrinkled his nose. “Aww, man…”

          She tapped her lips, trying to hide the grin that was threatening to peek out. “Pay up, monsieur! La Petite Poulet doesn’t come cheap, you know.”

          “But it was free for Angele!” Erik whined, sticking his lower lip out.

          “Elle est mais un enfant.” She waved her hand dismissively. “You, on the other hand, are a grown man. Now, pay up or I must force you to order your own meal, good sir.”

          Erik sighed. “Oh, okay.” He kissed her gently, then wrapped his arms around her. “Better, angel?”

          “Much. Now go, Angele might run off if you don’t keep an eye on her. It’s a wonder she’s still sitting there,” Christine warned. Erik nodded and walked off to their daughter, still smiling. “Il es sant espoir!” she laughed to herself, grinning.

          Erik slid into the bench across from Angele. “Bonjour, mademoiselle. Comment ca va?” he asked.

          “I’m good, Daddy. Et vous?”

          “I’m good as well, darling. Just hungry.” Erik stretched.

          Angele’s stomach rumbled. “I hope Maman comes back soon with my food. I’m going to starve!” she cried as she collapsed onto the bench. Erik laughed. “And I’m not being overdramatic. I haven’t eaten in _hours!_ ”

          Christine returned with three bags, each with a little cartoon chicken wearing an apron on them. “Lunch is served!” Christine said. “One grilled chicken nuggets meal with fruit punch?”

          Angele lunged for the bag. “Mine!” she cried, grabbing it and the bottle of fruit punch. “It smells good.”

          “One chicken sandwich with water?” Christine called. Erik waved his hand around. “Yes, for the handsome man in the back!” Angele gagged. Christine tossed him his food, then walked over and sat down next to him with her Caesar salad and hot chocolate.

          “Christine, why do you have hot chocolate in the middle of fall? It isn’t even cold!” Erik asked, rolling his eyes at her. She shrugged and brought the mug to her face.

          “Because it tastes good. Same reason Angele is wearing a sweatshirt and jeans.” Christine sipped her hot cocoa.

          Angele twisted her face up. “I’m not wearing a sweatshirt because it _tastes_ good!” she cried.

          Christine sighed. “You know what I meant.”

          Angele shook her head. “Not really. Explain, sil vous plait, Maman.”

          “Essentially because she can and she wants to,” Erik said, butting in to prevent an argument between his wife and his daughter. Angele’s mouth fell into an ‘o’ shape and Christine nodded.

          They ate their food with little complaining and a lot of banter between Erik and Christine, which seemed to make little Angele a bit uncomfortable. She was pushing her food around on her plate and hardly eating it while they were talking. Christine laughed. She and Meg were exactly like Angele at that point in their lives. Extremely opposed to anything remotely romantic.

          After lunch, Angele decided that she wanted to go ice skating at the plaza down the street. They had a year-round ice skating rink that the family frequented, usually at the behest of a certain seven-year-old girl. Although, even though he’d never admit it, Erik loved to go ice skating. The whole art of gliding around on ice just brought him so much joy. They strode down the street toward the rink and got their skates.

          Angele smiled. “Mama, can I go off by myself?” she asked, looking pleadingly up at her mother.

          Christine looked at Erik and nodded. “Yes, but stay on the rink. And make sure you don’t get hurt.” Angele nodded and zoomed away, the blades of her skates making a satisfying clink against the cold ice. Christine then took this opportunity to lean against her husband, shivering. “I wish I had prepared better for this,” she muttered. “I didn’t know Ange would want to ice skate.”

          Erik laughed and held her close. “It’s okay. I’ll help you stay warm, love.” He took her hand. She turned and looked up at him. “Wouldn’t want you to fall and become even colder, now would we, love?” he asked, raising one eyebrow. She shook her head.

          “That’s true, but I could still fall and then you’d fall too and we’d _both_ be miserable,” Christine said, shivering again. “And then you’d be in a bad mood and that would be the worst.”

          Erik nodded. “Fair enough. But I’m still not letting go of your hand. You could get hurt, Christine.” She rolled her eyes.

          “Like that matters. I’m going to get hurt sometimes, Erik. You have to get used to that. Everyone gets hurt sometimes. Even you.” Christine looked up at him, her brown eyes shining.

          Erik shook his head. “No one will ever hurt you or Angele. Not when I’m nearby and can prevent it. I would give my life for you.”

          Christine laid her head on his shoulder. “I know you would. And sometimes, that scares me. I don’t want to lose you. I _can’t_ lose you. I wouldn’t be able to function as a normal human being,” she said, her voice fading to a whisper as the words went on.

          Erik laughed. “Yes, you would. I know you would. You’re strong, love. Now, if I lost you…oh, I’d absolutely be a mess. I’d probably go crazy.”

          She grinned. “I know you would.” With that, she glided off, turning on a dime to call Erik after her and crashing to the ground. Erik immediately shot over to her as quickly as he could, crouching over her.

          “Christine! Oh, Christine, are you alright, love?” he asked, scanning her frantically for any sort of injuries. He noticed a cut running up her arm from the blade of the skate. “Oh, how could I have let this happen?” he asked, taking her hand. “You’re going to go sit down, angel. You have to. This could get worse, and that’s the last thing that needs to happen.” He helped her up and led her off the rink to a little picnic table.

          Christine looked up at him. “I’m fine, Erik. I promise.” Of course, right after she said that, she noticed the bleeding cut on her arm. “Or maybe I’m not. But I will be!”

          Angele noticed her parents sitting down and glided over. “Maman! What happened?” she asked, sliding off the rink.

          Christine smiled. “I fell, but I’m okay, sweetheart. We may have to go home, however.” Angele nodded.

          Erik put his hand on Christine’s shoulder. “It’s not that safe for her to be out here in the cold. It might freeze the blood. I don’t know if that’s even possible, but we want to prevent it if it’s a possibility. This ice rink is too cold for her.” Angele nodded again.

          “I don’t want Maman to be hurt,” she whimpered. Christine smiled.

          “Oh, darling, come here. I’ll be okay. And I’m sorry for ruining your day with my clumsiness.” She scooped Angele into her lap, holding her close.

          “It’s okay, Maman. I’d rather you be okay than have you be hurt and me be happy,” Angele said.

          “There’s that selflessness we were talking to you about earlier,” Erik laughed, kissing Angele’s forehead.

          And it was then, as the trio sat there, just the three of them, in the cold autumn weather in Paris, they realized something amazing. No matter how grand your life is, or how sad it may seem, it’s not your money or how large your house is that truly matters in life. No, the little things in life are the most important. They so often get overlooked when they are the most beautiful things in life. That day, as they spent time in the park, so many little memories were created, and each person there relearned the meaning of love.


End file.
